Knights of Knightmare / KNIGHTMARE

THIS is the galaxy primeval. The murmuring comets and the white dwarfs,
Bearded with dark energy, and in garments ultraviolet, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its violent origins, the deep-voiced neighboring star ocean
Speaks, and in radiation disconsolate answers the wail of the planets.
This is the galaxy primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Thunder, when he hears in space the communications of the Vanduul?
Where is the Dyson Sphere, the home of Ancient spacefarers —
Beings whose lives glided on like stardust that coalesces the starsystems,
Darkened by shadows of dark matter, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant Dyson rings, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of Supernovae
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o’er the star ocean.
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful world of Acadién.
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman’s devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the black holes of the cosmos;
List to a Tale of Entropy, the final End to All.